Bad Days
by Forged Obsidian
Summary: Sometimes Toshinori has bad days. The chronic pain from his scar would take a steep climb, and he had learned years ago that the only way to handle the bad days was to get through them.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Bad Days**

 **Author: Forged Obsidian**

Rating: Teen and up

Category: General, Hurt/ Comfort

Characters: Toshinori Yagi, Recovery Girl, Nedzu, Izuku Midoriya, Mic, Aizawa, Midnight, Class 1-A

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Setting: Post the current arc, mentions previous events

 **Summary** : **Sometimes Toshinori has bad days. The chronic pain from his scar would take a steep climb, and he had learned years ago that the only way to handle the bad days was to get through them.**

 **Bad Days**

Sometimes Toshinori has bad days.

He doesn't know for sure what triggers them - maybe twisting strangely, maybe moving too much, maybe just _breathing_. But eventually, one way or another, worse pain than usual would flare in the gnarled scar tissue in his side and he would be completely out of commission for at least a day.

While he did have chronic pain from his injury, it was fairly manageable as long as he remembered to take his medication. There was little to be done about his habit of coughing up blood, but most days all that did was give him a bit of a sore throat, maybe make him a little light-headed. Those were everyday things he could live with.

The worse attacks, though, left him wheezing for breath around decimated lungs and a swollen throat, irritated by blood. The painkillers didn't work, and any movement at all just seemed to make the icyhot pain radiating from his injury worse. He couldn't keep any food down and his vision blurred when he tried to do anything more demanding than lying on his bed and breathing. Thankfully, they only lasted for a day, two at the most. He had been through enough of them to know what to do. The first few times the attacks had come - the months after being _finally_ discharged from the hospital - Naomasa had actually supported his rail-thin friend to his car and taken him to the closest emergency room to spend the night. It was understandable, actually. The complications from Toshinori's various surgeries had put his life on the line more than once. Fortunately, these types of attacks weren't that regular.

That did give than an unfortunate element of surprise, though.

Toshinori figures that he should be thankful, this time; the attack hadn't hit him until he was home from working at the school. He had just closed and locked his door, turning to hang up his coat. The sudden flare in his side hit him like a bus and left him crouching on the floor, holding his breath. He hoped, for a moment or two, that it was nothing to worry about. The blood pushing itself up his throat squashed any optimism he had. It was the quick, painful dash to the nearby kitchen sink that convinced him that _no, this wasn't the usual_.

It was going to be a long night.

The first thing he did after coughing blood into the sink was get his hands on his phone. There was no way he was going to be able to teach tomorrow. Thankfully, the principal usually stayed long after the final classes ended for the day.

It took a few rings for the other line to be picked up. " _UA, this is Principal Nedzu speaking_."

Toshinori gave a brief sigh. "It's All Might."

" _Ah! Hello. What can I do for you?"_

". . . I don't think I'll be able to come in tomorrow."

There was a brief silence on the other line _. "Is everything alright?"_

Before Toshinori could reply he broke into another coughing fit. It wasn't as large as the first, but it still hurt. He gagged over the sink and his eyes watered.

 _"Yagi?"_ The principal sounded concerned.

Toshinori spat into the sink, trying to clear up his throat enough to speak. "My side had a bit of a flare up. Won't be able to do much-"

Nedzu interrupted him.

 _"I understand. Don't tax yourself overmuch - you told me this happens occasionally. And don't worry about tomorrow - it was going to be a joint class anyways, if I remember correctly. Mic will be able to handle the students. And if you need the day after that, just contact me."_

Toshinori listened, trying to quash the voice in his head that whispered _useless_ and _pathetic_. "Sorry about the late notice."

Nedzu's tone lightened. _"There's nothing to apologize for! Just take care of yourself. Do you need me to contact Recovery Girl?"_

"No. I'll be fine."

 _"Alright. Feel free to keep me updated."_

"Thank you."

The conversation ended soon after. Toshinori hit 'End' on his phone with a shaking finger. He briefly considered calling Naomasa, but his friend was out of the city visiting family with some of his hard-earned off time.

The pain flared again, dropping him onto the cold kitchen tiles. There was no blood to cough up this time, but it felt like the scar was twisting and tearing, like his skin had the first time he was injured. Toshinori let out a groan and pressed his head to the floor, his hands hovering over his left side. He didn't want to touch it and risk irritating it further.

He didn't know how much time passed before the pain ebbed enough for him to risk standing up. The first thing he did was grab an ice pack from his freezer and hold it to his side. He also grabbed a water bottle, though he doubted he would be able to keep anything down for much longer. He shuffled into his bedroom, hunched over against the pain and trying to keep his movements minimal.

Almost as soon as he settled under the blankets the headache started. Toshinori let out a ragged sigh and pressed the ice pack directly against the center of his scar, trying to numb the pain.

". . . . dammit."

* * *

He woke up a few hours later, the ice pack melted and slushy in his slack hands. A lurch in his gut woke him up completely and sent him stumbling for the bathroom. Thankfully, he hadn't eaten much that day. It still hurt, though.

After he was done vomiting the shaking started. He was exhausted, and couldn't seem to get warm. He tried to stand, to get back to bed, but his vision crossed before he could rock his weight onto his feet. Toshinori ended up resting his forearms and head on the edge of the bathtub, curling the rest of him into a ball in an attempt to relieve the ache from his side.

He did make it back to his bed, eventually. He took note of the slight blood stains on his pillow. Well, it's not like he hasn't bled in his sleep before. He took a small drink of water, hoping it stayed down. The possibility of pain killers didn't even cross his mind - he had tried that route before and had just spat the medicine back up soon after.

A quick glance at his bedside clock blinked out 3:47 in the morning. Toshinori shook and tried to find a position that didn't put any pressure on his scar.

He never managed to fall back asleep that night, instead spending it awake, curled in his bed. The blankets, which usually helped to keep his slight form warm, were tangled and wrapped around his feet. There was a deep bowl at his bedside holding the blood he spat up, resting on an old bloodstained towel. His pillow was a warped mess.

Toshinori shifted endlessly, sweating and twitching. His hands hadn't stopped shaking. Sometimes he simply lost the energy to move, lying limply in bed and breathing. The air rattled in what little scraps of lung he had left. And, always, was the pain from his old injury. It hissed in his mind until there was little else, beyond the necessary _breathe in, breathe out_.

* * *

The students noticed when it was just Present Mic, their conversations coming to a questioning halt as the hero walked through the doorway of the classroom alone.

The hero sighed. He had been looking forward to teaching with All Might today - even now as a retiree Mic had unending respect for the man. He might even go so far as to call him a friend. The reaction of the students was more than understandable.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to try to make the best of the situation. He threw up peace signs with both hands and said "Let's get this show on the road!"

The silence afterwards was nearly insulting. Mic put his hands on his hips. "One of these days you kids _just gotta_ answer, I swear."

It was Tsuyu who raised her hand first. Mic wasn't surprised. The entire class had shown multiple times before today that they were concerned about their sickly teacher. He made a 'just a moment' sign with his hands, walking the rest of the way to the front of the room and leaning against the desk.

"I know what you all are probably wondering. All Might had to take the day off."

"But-" Kirishima nearly jumped out of his seat. "Is he alright? Like he's not in the hospital or anything?"

Mic raised his hands. "He's not in the hospital. He's just a little sick. He'll be back tomorrow or the day after."

The relief in the room was palpable. Mic smiled.

"Now - on with the English lesson!"

The following chorus of groans still wasn't quite enough to erase the worry in the room, though.

* * *

When Izuku walked into the nurse's office Recovery Girl nearly had a heart attack. "And just what have you done to yourself this time?!"

Izuku blushed and stammered. "N-nothing! Just - well - All Might didn't show up for class today and Present Mic s-said that he was just sick, but I was just wondering if it was something worse and he just wasn't telling us because he didn't want us to worry and -"

Chiyo held up her hands. "Alright, alright! So you're concerned that Mic didn't give you the whole story?"

"Well, yeah! And it's not just me. A-and I know you probably can't tell me what exactly is going on, but we just want to know that he'll be alright. "

While Izuku was the only student asking, she could hear some other students lingering out in the hallway. Chiyo smiled. Ever since All Might's last fight against All For One, when his true form had been revealed to the world, the students had almost become protective of their sickly teacher. They noticed that he tired easily, and that he didn't eat much, and the brace he wore on his right arm was enough of a reminder that he wasn't physically sound. It warmed her heart to know that there were others looking out for Toshinori.

"All Might really will be just fine. He just needs to rest."

The relief in Izuku's face brightened the entire room. "Thank goodness!"

"Now," Chiyo quipped, spinning in her chair back to her desk. "You and your friends better get back to class."

Izuku practically sprinted out of the room, smile on his face as he told the assortment of students outside the door that "No, he's gonna be okay!"

Chiyo smiled for a moment before it fell from her face. She had been one of the doctors to help Toshinori through those first few major attacks, when Naomasa had pulled into the emergency room entryway and essentially carried his friend in through the front doors. There had been little any of the attending doctors could do - not even a morphine drip had helped. Toshinori had learned years ago that the only way to handle the bad days was to get through them.

The fact that he kept going was something Chiyo was constantly grateful for.

* * *

Toshinori is pretty sure that he fell into a fitful sleep around mid-morning.

When he finally woke up his mouth was dry. The flaring pain in his side had faded to a dull roar, promising to return if he did anything too strenuous. He was curled on his right side, arm pillowed under his head. His eyes felt itchy. His back ached.

He blinked once or twice, dragging in air through his mouth. He gingerly pushed his torso up off the bed, sliding his legs around to the edge. He sat for a moment or two, waiting to see if movement triggered another attack. When the scar didn't complain he stood, gently walking to the bathroom.

He felt a little more human after a shower.

Toshinori spent the rest of the day sleeping, sometimes moving to fetch a fresh ice pack from his freezer or to have a glass of water. He did have a little to eat just before the sun went down, but he wasn't feeling sturdy enough to have much food. The pain in his side had faded close to normal, though the scar still felt tender.

He contacted Nedzu and told him that he would be coming in tomorrow.

* * *

Dragging himself out of bed in the morning almost made him regret that decision. The attack had mostly died down, though he felt stiff and worn out. His head also felt a little fuzzy, but he blamed that on not really eating for the past day or so.

Still, after a small breakfast and putting on some clean clothes he felt a little more prepared to face the day. An ache in his right hand reminded him to strap on his brace, which he had needed since getting his cast removed after the battle with All-For-One. An alarm on his phone reminded him to pack some painkillers in his bag.

He yawned, carefully stretched, and walked out the door.

* * *

Toshinori walked stiffly out onto the massive field, making his way towards the suited form of Thirteen. He gave a small wave and a ghost of a smile.

Thirteen waved back, saying "Welcome back! How're you feeling?"

"Better. I'm sorry, but you'll have to refresh me on what we're doing today."

As Thirteen explained, the doors on the other side of the field opened and Class 1-A filed out. When the students saw Thirteen and All Might on the field they walked faster. As they came to a stop a few waved at their teachers. Toshinori gave a small thumbs when he saw the concern on their faces, flashing a bright smile.

Thirteen launched into the plans for the lesson, making sure that the students understood the rules of the game. It was, as usual, Iida who had a question about the purpose of the exercise.

"Excuse me, but I fail to understand the purpose of the game in our development as heroes."

All Might answered. "Control, my boy. Before, you were prohibited from using your quirks because it would be unfair to fellow students. Now that you've been given free reign to use your quirks, controlling them and getting creative is even more important."

He bent over and picked up a kickball that had been resting by his feet. "The true objective of this is to make sure you can play the game without destroying the ball-" He tossed the ball to Thirteen.

"- and to make sure that you're thinking outside of the box!" Thirteen finished, catching the ball and turning to walk to the first base. As the rest of them turned to follow, Iida declaring that he understood the reason for the game, Izuku fell into step with Toshinori. It was almost hard to hear his quiet question over the yells and whoops of his classmates.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Toshinori thought a moment before answering. "I'm alright, my boy." _Nothing I haven't dealt with before. No true reason to worry._

Izuku nodded. "I'm glad you're okay." He gave Toshinori a bright smile and ran ahead to his classmates before Toshinori could reply.

* * *

Overall, the exercise was successful. The kickball survived, through several stretches of scorched and cut grass couldn't say the same. There were improvements that could be made, but overall Toshinori and Thirteen were impressed with the ingenuity their students had displayed. As the group walked away from the field and through the hallways of the school the quiet chatter of the students echoed slightly through the large building. When the group was walking past the door to the nurse's office, Toshinori stopped and gave an apologetic glance at Thirteen. "I'm afraid I need to leave you momentarily, Thirteen. I should check in with Recovery Girl."

Thirteen gave him a thumbs up. "It's alright! We're just going to go over the tapes and discuss what could be improved. Meet you back at the classroom!"

A few of the students gave him questioning looks as he left the group. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The moment he walked through the door Recovery Girl was at his side gesturing him to one of the beds, saying "The principal told me what happened. How are you feeling?"

As he sat he allowed his shoulders to slump down, giving a bone-deep sigh. "Right now? Not great."

Recovery Girl gave him a close look. The circles under his eyes were deeper and darker than usual, and his skin seemed more sickly pale and drawn than was normal for him. Her heart ached. "When was the last time you ate?"

Toshinori thought for a moment. "This morning, not much yesterday or the day before."

"You know what I'm going to say."

He held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Yes, yes, I know."

She put her hand on her hips. "Don't you 'yes, yes' me, Toshinori. Just remember to eat. Now take your shirt off - let me see the damage. And listen to your lungs."

As soon as she could see his scar she gently moved his arm out of the way. "What was it this time?"

"It might have been twisting to get my coat off. I don't know for certain, though."

"Well," Chiyo whispered, almost to herself. "It's certainly irritated - see all the red? But it looks like it'll be fine before too long. Just be sure to take things slow." She jumped onto the bed behind him, pulling a stethoscope from around her neck and putting the earbuds in place. Toshinori's back didn't twitch when it felt the cold metal.

"I plan to. I feel like I got hit by a truck."

She gave a sympathetic look to the back of his head. "Was it bad this time around?"

Toshinori shrugged. "It could have been a lot worse, honestly."

"Did you have anyone with you? Deep breath, please."

"No." Toshinori tried to inhale, but something caught in his chest and he had to bend over in a dry cough.

Chiyo gently patted the man's bare back, gentle around the scar tissue. "You know, it might have helped to have someone around."

Toshinori sputtered, trying to talk around the breath wheezing in his chest. "I didn't want to bother anyone!"

The doctor sighed in exasperation. "You know that doesn't matter! It's best to have someone there. You don't have to be alone. Contact someone next time."

The man gave a cough, lean shoulders bobbing. "You're probably right. I should. It's just . . . hard, sometimes."

Chiyo paused, a small idea growing in her mind. "You know, it might be good for you to move into one of the single rooms in the dorms. I know Mic and Aizawa have their hands full with the boy's side and would appreciate your help."

Toshinori thought a moment before replying. "That . . . actually sounds like a good idea. I'll have to think about it." Chiyo could hear the smile in his voice. She was pretty sure that she knew what his answer would be.


	2. Chapter 2

**2./**

Chiyo's idea works, perhaps better than she could have planned.

Moving into the dorms went smoothly - Nedzu thought the idea would work well and he sounded relieved when Toshinori brought up the idea. The students seemed excited at the prospect of having another one of their teachers living on with them.

And so Toshinori joined Mic, Aizawa, and Midnight in dorm life.

And it was all right, for a while. He fit in fine, sometimes staying up with the other teachers grading papers at one of the the tables while the students were engaged in something else around the ground floor and the rest of the building. It was nice, he was discovering, to have other people around. He was grateful for the privacy of his own room, though. Sometimes the students could get _loud_ , especially if one Katsuki Bakugou was involved.

Life went on, as it tends to do. The students attended the classes the teachers taught. All Might was still addressed as such, the students never losing the respect they had for him even after his retirement. He took care of himself when he remembered too and tried his best in his educational duties. Aizawa was still tired and grumpy. Mic was still loud and bombastic. Midnight watched them all with a look of constant entertainment.

The students loved having their teachers in the dorms. It made class assignments much easier for them when their instructors were just down the hall. Toshinori made it a habit to keep his door unlocked just in case the students wanted to ask for anything, and most of them weren't shy about asking for help

It was peaceful, for all that the students could get loud and various quirks occasionally caused temporary alterations to the building.

It was peaceful enough for him to drop his guard a bit.

* * *

He was washing dishes when it hit. Aizawa and Midnight were seated at a table, sipping from respective mugs and talking about something or other. Bakougou was sitting on the couch in front of the television, fussing with Uraraka's hair as she sat in front of him on the floor. Kirishima was next to Bakougou, engaged in a conversation with Yaoyorozu about what they should watch. Todoroki was reading a book, curled up in one of the recliners. The rest of the students were in various places in the residence portion of the dorms and Mic had retired to his room to sleep. Overall, it was a quiet evening.

Toshinori was standing, hands in soapy water, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, when a strange twitch rippled along his ribs. He paused in scrubbing a plate and leaned against the counter. When nothing more happened he shrugged and continued washing.

The gurgle of blood at the back of his throat was sudden and there was no way for him to stop it. Against his will he coughed, one hand coming up to try to stifle the sound as well as the blood. Aizawa and Midnight looked over at him, noticing his hunched shoulders. They traded concerned looks, but they were used to the coughing attacks All Might would sometimes get.

Toshinori was able to stifle the cough and force some blood back down his throat, though some did manage to leak between his clenched fingers. He waited a moment and slowly straightened his shoulders. Then, with little prelude, his side seized.

It felt like an involuntary shiver, but it traveled up his spine and locked his jaw. All he managed to say was a garbled "Oh" before the left side of his body decided to go on strike. His leg and arm went stiff and weak. The next thing he knew he was on the floor, the plate falling into the sink with a clatter.

He didn't see the shock on his colleague's faces or the surprise on the faces of his students as they turned to the source of the noise. His world was drawn to the knots and ridges of scar tissue that wrapped around his ribcage like a shredded blanket. It _hurt,_ it felt like his side was on fire, and he couldn't do a thing to change it. A spike of nausea hit and he coughed blood onto the clean tile.

Aizawa had jumped the counter in his haste to reach Toshinori the moment he saw the older man go down. Midnight had sprinted around to where All Might's head had cracked against the floor. They both saw him lying on his left side, trying to curl his spindly limbs into a ball. His breathing was raspy and, even as it dawned on them that it wasn't a seizure, a bubble of blood curled out of his mouth. He was holding his left side in a white knuckled grip.

Midnight gently fell to her knees beside Toshinori, easing his head into her lap. "Easy, easy." She smoothed away hair that was already damp with sweat, running her hand across his forehead.

Aizawa crouched next to her and placed one hand on Toshinori's shoulder. He could feel the older man shaking. He exchanged a look with Midnight after a spasm made All Might's body tense up. Their eyes fell to the depression in his side, where they both knew his injury was. Aizawa sighed and rocked back on his heels, keeping on hand on Toshinori's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, and tried to think of how best to help. They both knew about the attacks that happened sometimes - All Might had explained it to them himself in a quiet voice. _Sometimes it'll take a while to build up, maybe a day or two. Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere. Since I'm going to be living here, you should probably know._

"Is he alright?"

The two teachers looked up to see the students gathered around their fallen mentor, some leaning over the island to view the trio on the floor. Their faces were pale and pinched with worry. It was Uraraka who had spoken, her voice quiet. Then it was like a dam burst as everyone tried to speak at once.

"What's -"

"What the _fuck_ -"

"Is he gonna -"

"He will be _fine_ , but right now you all need to go to your rooms." Aizawa realized he was perhaps a bit more strict with his tone than he needed to be, but he needed the students to leave. It would make things easier, and he was pretty sure All Might would appreciate it. His grip tightened on Toshinori's shivering shoulder.

Kirishima's voice seemed uncharacteristically loud. "Shouldn't we call an ambulance, or something? I mean, we know that he's in pretty bad shape and all, but _this-_ "

 _"No."_

Everyone looked at All Might. He was still curled up, trying to ease the painful cramping in his scar. His mouth was tight at the corners and his body shook. But his eyes were open, still coherent despite the glaze of pain. "That won't . . . they can't-" His raspy voice broke off into another coughing fit. Midnight smoothed hair from his forehead and made hushing noises.

Toshinori took in a ragged breath and whispered "Just. Listen to Aizawa."

The students hesitated a moment longer, the desire to help written clearly on their faces. Toshinori gave them a watery thin smile. "I'll be f-fine." It took all he had to keep a whine of pain out of his voice.

The smile quickly fell from his face.

Aizawa sighed and dropped his gaze from the students, looking down at Toshinori. His eyes had clenched closed again. His hands were still gripping the left side of his torso, shaking on the fabric. Aizawa's question was quiet - no one else except Midnight would be able to hear him. "Will you really be alright?"

 _This one is like the early attacks - coming out of nowhere and with the force of a gunshot. But at least they have to stop sometime_ , Toshinori thought. All he could manage, though, was a simple ". . . yeah."

Midnight looked at the students, who were clearly torn between listening to their teachers and staying to do whatever they could to help All Might.

Midnight sighed and switched her gaze back to Toshinori. "Is there anything we can do?"

"No. Just gotta get through it. I'll be fine."

"Do you need us to contact Recovery Girl?"

Aizawa spoke up before Toshinori could answer. "She's pulling an extended shift in a hospital to the north. She won't be able to come down until two days from now."

"Oh."

Toshinori shifted, trying to push himself up off the floor. The initial flare of pain in his side had faded a bit and he wanted to get to his room. The sooner he could get away from the worried eyes of his students the better. _They have better and more important things to do than worry about a half dead retiree._

"And just what are you trying to do?" Midnight's voice sounded strangely accusing.

Toshinori inhaled lightly. "Going to my room."

Aizawa didn't speak, though he did grab Toshinori's upper arm and help him into a sitting position. Toshinori tried to wave him off, but a bout of lightheadedness briefly made the room swirl and he let his hand fall to the floor.

"Alright," Midnight said, moving away from Toshinori and standing up. She looked over at the students. "If you want to help, make sure that everything is out of the way." The students hesitated for a moment, eyes on their teachers, before dashing to the area between the kitchen and the elevators. Before long the scraping of chairs along the floor could be heard.

Aizawa helped Toshinori to stand, hands gripping the older man's arm. "You got it?"

". . . yeah. I'm fine."

"You don't look like it."

"I know what I'm doing, Aizawa." There was no humor in Toshinori's voice. Aizawa shook his head and walked beside Toshinori as he gently made his way across the ground floor. His steps were tentative and he slouched even more than usual. The students watched him walk past with worried eyes that followed him to the elevator.

The moment the doors closed behind him Toshinori groaned and leaned his head against the cold metal. His hand was curled around his torso. As the elevator started its ascent to the fifth floor Toshinori shot a glance at Aizawa, who had silently stayed by his side.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't pass out in the elevator."

"You don't need to -"

"I want to."

The silence was a bit awkward. Toshinori was hyperaware of his surroundings and the way his breath seemed to echo in the small space, a wheezing rasp with a wet edge. He didn't see the glace Aizawa shot his way.

". . . are these attacks always like this?"

Toshinori shook his head. "Usually I get more warning."

The elevator opened with a ding. Toshinori shuffled out into the empty hallway and turned to edge his way towards his room, trying to ignore the pull on his side and the way he just wanted to curl up on the floor.

"Hey," Aizawa called after him, holding the elevator door open with his foot. "If you need anything, don't even think about hesitating to ask."

Toshinori didn't turn, to wary of his unstable balance. He did nod, more out of a reason to respond than to agree.

Aizawa watched the older man key into his room, the door closing behind Toshinori with a crisp click.

* * *

It was peaceful in Ojiro's room, despite the large quantity of students currently gathered along the floor, bed, and chairs. Ojiro was laying sideways in his bed, back propped up against the wall. Hagakure was next to him, controller in her invisible hands as she moved her icon around on the screen of his television.

"No way you're gonna beat me this time, Ashido!"

Ashido gave a cackle and leaned over her controller. Izuku and Iida, who had the other pair in their possession, groaned and accepted their defeat, passing on the controllers on to other students in the room. Tsuyu nodded in thanks and Kaminari quipped something at Jirou, waving the controller around in his slack hands.

For all that eight people were gathered in the room, it was very comfortable.

When Uraraka and Todoroki knocked and slipped into the room they met a wall of greetings and smiling faces, which quickly fell at the sight of their two fellow students.

Uraraka was pale, hunching in her shoulders to maker her seem smaller. Her eyes were red with unshed tears. Todoroki seems less put together than usual, his hair ruffled and hand twitching on the door handle.

". . . you guys alright?"

Uraraka shook her head, hands coming up to grip her shoulders. Todoroki gently pushed her into the room. "Bakugou and Kirishima are tracking down the others."

". . . why?" Tsuyu's voice held a worried edge. Todoroki shook his head and slouched down to sit next to Izuku.

Uraraka stood alone in the doorway. ". . . All Might collapsed."

For a singular moment the room was quiet. Then it exploded in demands and questions. Izuku went very pale and hugged himself.

A burst of flame from Todoroki's palm got everyone's attention. The boy was still sitting on the floor, but his eyes flickered around the room. "Last we saw he was going to his room to rest. Eraserhead says that he will be fine."

"What happened?" asked Iida. "The last I saw him he seemed in decent health."

Todoroki lowered his hand. "It was . . . it came out of nowhere, really."

Uraraka nodded, hugging her shoulders tighter. Ashido stood up and gently grabbed her arms, pulling her down to sit on the floor.

Uraraka took in a shuddering breath. "We heard a plate clatter in the sink and turned to see what happened. Bakugou, Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu were there, too. We thought he had just slipped, but then Midnight and Eraserhead ran over to where he was and didn't say anything. We - we went over there too, and -" she gave a small hiccup.

Todoroki picked up the narrative. "He was lying on the floor, really pale and holding his side like it hurt him. I thought that it might be something with his appendix, but then I saw the blood - it looked like he was coughing it up. He was wincing."

"But you said he was resting in his room!"

"Well, he didn't pass out as far as I could see. He said that he didn't want an ambulance. After a while he stood up and walked to the elevator. Eraserhead went with him."

"Should . . . should we go see if he's alright?" Jirou's voice was crackly.

"He seemed like he wanted to be left alone," Uraraka sniffed. "H-he didn't want help and acted like it was nothing to worry about."

Todoroki spoke up. "He really seemed like he was in pain. He tried to say that he was fine, but I'm pretty sure he was just saying that so we would feel better."

"So what was wrong with him? Are we sure he's gonna be okay?" Kaminari asked.

"He acted like it was something he was familiar with, so it's probably happened before."

". . . he probably wants to be left alone."

Everyone looked at Izuku, who was pale but holding in chin in a thoughtful position. "I mean, we know that he's been sort of the center of attention for a lot of people lately, after Kamino Ward. A-and he isn't in the best of health, and we don't see him eat often enough to be sure that he's been eating enough, but having everyone go talk to him right now would probably be pushing some boundaries, and if he didn't want to tell us about this before does that mean he doesn't want us to know, and . . ." He trailed off into his characteristic mumbling.

"Maybe Midoriya has a point," Ojiro commented. "All Might would have told us if he wanted to."

"Maybe he's not used to asking for help," Tsuyo chimed in, eyes glued to the ground as she thought. "He is used to being the 'Symbol of Peace,' after all."

"Ah! That's true too."

". . . so what do we do?" Uraraka's voice was stronger. Determination was steely in her eyes.

"Maybe the best thing we can do, at least right now, is wait until All Might feels better and then talk to him about it," Izuku said, breaking out of his monologue and leaning backwards against Ojiro's bed frame. "It . . . it might be best, actually. Let him set his boundaries, but let him know that we're worried and want to help."

His fellow students all nodded, some looking pale and worried and others looking at their hands.

Uraraka swallowed. "I'll tell Yaoyorozu about this," she said, standing and moving towards the door. "She stayed behind to . . . help Midnight." Jirou and Kaminari went with her - they wanted to make sure Bakugou and Kirishima had found the others and and wanted to fill them in.

The room was filled with worry and the faint hope that they could help their teacher.

* * *

 _"All Might! I didn't expect you to be up this late."_

 _The retired hero looked across the table, surprise lighting up the blue in his eyes as he peered over the top of a battered paperback book. "Oh, Midnight! Hello!"_

 _"Get lost in your book?"_

 _"Yes, actually."_

 _She smiled and pulled a mug from the cupboard, getting ready to make some tea._

 _"Ah, there's water on the stove that is free for use," All Might remarked, gesturing with a long-fingered hand towards a kettle resting on the stove surface. Midnight gave a nod of thanks._

 _When she sat down across from him she couldn't help but start a conversation. "So, how do you think the semester is going?"_

 _All Might nearly dropped his book, surprised that she was asking an ametur teacher. It took him a moment to collect an answer. "Given all that the students have been through, I would say that they're doing better than expected. Though I have no prior experience to base that on, I suppose."_

 _Midnight grinned at his awkwardness. "No need to worry, you're doing just fine. As well as the students, by the way. They're a good class."_

 _He gave a grateful smile. For a moment they were both quiet. Eventually All Might ventured a question. "So, how long have you been teaching, Midnight?"_

 _"About five years, now," she answered with a smile. "Also, my name is Nemuri Kayama. If we're going to be living together, I want you to know that. Getting called by my hero name all the time gets tedious."_

 _All Might's eyes widened as she spoke, and he tried to stammer out a response. "W-well, thank you! I'm glad that you feel you can trust me."_

 _"No problem."_

 _All Might fingered the cover of his book, seemingly lost in thought. "In that case, my name is Toshinori Yagi."_

 _She grinned, taking a sip of her tea. "It's a pleasure to meet you."_

Midnight shook her head, clearing away the memory.

She was sitting in the kitchen area on the first floor, papers and sheets spread out from her position and holding a pen slack in her hand. Aizawa was at another table, answering questions Mic fired at him.

"So how long has he been out?"

"It started about a day and a half ago. He's just been resting in his room."

Mic rubbed his forehead. "Geeze - if I'd known that was gonna happen I would have stuck around instead of going to bed."

"He was fairly insistent that he knew what he was doing," Aizawa said. "We haven't seen him yet, but I told him to ask if he needed anything. He'll be up and about in a few days."

Mic nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he said something like that when he was telling us about it, didn't he."

Midnight tried to focus on the paper in front of her, but with a resigned sigh she laid them down on the table. "I'm going to check on him," she said, setting down her pen and standing up.

"Yeah, and tell us if he need anything?" Mic called after her. She gave an answering wave as she stepped into the stairwell.

* * *

She gently knocked on Toshinori's door, unsurprised when there wasn't a response. She keyed into the room, making sure to move the door quickly so the hinges wouldn't squeak.

The room was dark and quiet, the only light coming in from the hallway behind her and the neon green clock next to Toshinori's bed. Midnight slipped in and quietly shut the door. Thankfully there was still enough light eeking through the closed curtains to help her see her way to the man's bedside.

Toshinori was sleeping heavily on his right side, blanket draped over his body and hugging his shoulder. Midnight quietly walked across the room, stopping next to his head to reach out and gently grip his shoulder. He didn't even twitch at the touch, face slack and breathing rickety.

Something slid under the blanket, falling down from where it was perched on Toshinori's left side and onto the bed with a wet *squish.* Midnight looked at the unidentifiable lump in surprise and, after a moment of hesitation, gently poked it. The familiar sensation of a melted ice pack met her fingertips even through the thick blanket.

She sighed and gently shook Toshinori's shoulder, quietly calling out his name. There was no reaction. Midnight made a snap decision and gently peeled back the blanket, grabbing the ice pack and walking to his small refrigerator. It didn't take her long to find a spare and slip the used one into the freezer.

Midnight walked back to Toshinori's bedside. She knelt and gently replaced the icepack, being sure to center it over his scar. She wrapped it with a handful of the blanket to keep it in place, the thick scar tissue twitching a bit at the cold touch. She pulled the rest of the fabric back over Toshinori's thin frame

Midnight looked around while she was kneeling next to Toshinori's bedside, taking note of the bowl at his bedside and the almost untouched water bottle. There were pill bottles covering the top of his bedside shelf, some with their tops off. The man himself was completely asleep, not tossing or turning. Dried sweat layered his brow and bangs, and the circles under his eyes were darker and deeper than usual. Almost without thinking she reached up and brushed Toshinori's hair away from his face.

She doesn't know why she spoke aloud, but her voice was hardly a whisper. It wouldn't be heard above the breath rattling in Toshinori's chest.

"Oh you precious man. What are we going to do with you?" Her voice, while quiet, was gentle and fond. The small smile she wore faded as Toshinori's breath continued to rasp in his throat, sometimes catching in his chest.

"You know about Aizawa's migraines, from his dry-eye, and how they got worse after his skull fracture from the Nomu," she whispered, remembering how Toshinori would sometimes shift into his hero form and use those precious few moments to carry the sleeping form of Aizawa to a couch or the younger man's room. When she had caught him in the act he had given a guilty smile and raised a finger to his lips.

She gently smoothed back his hair, tucking his loose bangs behind his ear. "You know about Mic and his depression - I've seen you two talking late into the night enough to know that much." The image of the two sitting around a table while the moon shined overhead and the way Mic's voice caught as they talked was crisp in her memory.

"You know about my anxiety, and I remember you talking me through a panic attack behind the school." It had been early in All Might's time at the school. She could still feel his deep voice telling her where she was and what day it was and that she was alright. She had felt exhausted after, numb and tired. He had helped her to the teacher's lounge afterwards.

She paused in her movements, fingers gently twitching against blond hair. The messy ponytail Toshinori had pulled his hair into was falling apart. "You're so used to helping others. Giving yourself and your time and energy and health and blood and . . . damn it, Toshinori, that's how you burn out. You have to save some of you for you."

 _The brightest stars burn quicker, die sooner._

She stood at the sad thought, minutely adjusting the blanket and giving him a small pat on his shoulder. "Accepting help isn't a weakness, you ridiculous man. And I know that we all want to help." Her voice caught and she paused in surprise. She hadn't realized how close she had grown to her fellow teachers, even the ones she had been working with for years. Living in the dorms, it seemed, was turning them all into a large family.

Midnight sighed and rubbed between her eyes and moved quietly towards the door. She paused with her hand on the latch, looking back at the scrawny form on the bed. He hadn't moved, and it must have been her imagination that he was breathing easier. She shook her head and slipped out into the hallway.


	3. Chapter 3

**3./**

Several hours after Midnight quietly left his room, and two days after he had collapsed in the kitchen, Toshinori woke up.

His eyes were bleary and his mouth was dry, but the attack was on a downward spiral. He hadn't managed to get any sleep the first night, in too much pain to do more than slump into his blankets. He'd managed to nap on and off throughout the following day, but he still felt tired down to his bones. His sleep had been patchy and unuseful until he fell into a deep doze earlier that morning. There was a ache where his spine met his skull.

Toshinori hissed as he propped himself up, the scar tissue stiff and protesting any movement with itching reminders of the pain of the previous two days. "Oh, _ouch_ . . ."

His toes curled when his feet touched down on the cold floor. The blankets slid off his bare back, offering an unobstructed view of the injury to his side. It was always a bit swollen after the major attacks, though this time the irritated flesh had flushed from the normal scarred red to a sickly purple. Toshinori sighed and gently wrapped his hand around the scar, making sure it was up to moving before he tried to walk. His side twitched a bit at his touch, but the pain didn't increase.

He stood cautiously, waiting a moment before taking a shuffling step forward towards the chair pushed under his desk. As much as he wanted to collapse back into the thick padding of his bed he forced himself to move, muscles aching along his back as he gingerly made his way to the chair.

He lowered himself into the fluffy padding with a groan of thanks. It was only a few steps from his bed, but he felt like he had just sprinted up several flights of stairs.

Toshinori shot a bleary glance at his bedside table and the population of pill bottles that lived on its gleaming surface. He felt lightheaded and unsteady, doubtful that he could handle much of anything. _Still . . ._

It was just past 11 o'clock at night. The students would all be in their rooms, likely sleeping and getting ready for the next round of training. If he wanted to avoid any contact with his students - and any questions he just didn't have the energy to answer - now would be the time to make a trip downstairs.

With a shallow sigh he pulled on a baggy sweatshirt and haltingly made his way to the elevator.

* * *

Mic threw himself down onto the couch with a groan. The recording session at the studio had gone one far longer than planned, due to one malfunctioning soundboard. The common room was empty, thankfully. He rolled over, shoving one of his legs into the crease between the back of the couch and the seating cushions. Pillowing his head onto the armrest, Mic felt his eyes slip closed.

A minute later the ding from the elevator snapped him out of the light sleep he had fallen into. His head shot up and, to his surprise, the hunched form of Toshinori was outlined in the dim lighting. Mic felt a big, lopsided smile grow on his face, a little drowsy from the late hour. "Hey, you're up!"

All Might gave a noncommittal grunt, shuffling past the couch and over to the cabinets.

Mic yawned and pushed himself up off the couch, giving a long stretch as he stood up. He snapped his fingers and followed Toshinori into the kitchen. _Yikes, but he looks rough._

There were deep bags under All Might's blue eyes, more colorful than usual. While he was already fairly skinny, now it looked like his skin was drawn tight across his face. The scruff of a blond beard was growing on his face and his hair was a matted mess. The dark pajama bottoms he was wearing were wrinkled and the cuff of one leg was turned up. He was hunched over and moving slowly, his breathing slow and wet in his chest. There were stress lines at the corners of his eyes.

Mic stood off to the side, resting his arms on the island in the center of the kitchen. "How're you doing?"

Toshinori, who was fishing around in the cabinets for something, made a noise of satisfaction as his questing hand found the box of teabags. As he slowly withdrew his hand he turned his head, looking at Mic. One of his eyebrows twitched. Toshinori opened his mouth, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. His eyes widened and he rubbed at his throat, wincing at the stinging pain. There was a strange gurgle in his throat and the next thing he knew he was coughing over the sink, trying to suppress the hacking in his chest.

"Woah, there," Mic said, making his way around the island to stop next to All Might, gently reaching out and patting the older man's back.

Toshinori spat watery blood into the sink and sucked in a raspy breath of air. ". . . ow." His throat was raw and irritated, his voice a jagged wet sound with too many edges.

Mic frowned when he felt the hitch in Toshinori's chest. "Geeze, buddy. You sit down - I'll heat some water."

"I-" Toshinori coughed, wincing at the rattle in his throat.

"Don't worry about it! I was gonna make some hot cocoa anyways - that last recording session was a killer."

Toshinori gave a dim smile, but he did relinquish his hold on the tea box. Mic picked it out of Toshinori's wiry hand and set the box next to the stove, bending down to reach for the kettle stored in the under-the-counter cupboard.

Toshinori gave a jagged sigh and sagged against the counter edge, one hand reaching for the paper towels next to the sink and the other resting gently on his chest. Even as he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth he frowned at the shudder in his remaining lung.

"Anyways," Mic quipped, turning on the burner. "The kids had a English quiz today. They did better than I thought they would, especially Kaminari." He looked up at Toshinori, a wry smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Looks like the extra help you gave them turned out."

Toshinori snorted, then winced at the pull in his throat. "That's -" He coughed. ". . . good."

Mic looked over at him with a critical eye. "You know, you could have asked someone to bring something up to you."

"I know." He leaned back over the sink when a familiar itch started at the back of his tongue. A moment later and he was coughing again, his chest trying to clear out the congestion that had built up over the past few days.

Mic rubbed Toshinori's back, a frown on his face. Toshinori was coughing hard enough that tears were beginning to gather at the corners of his sunken eyes.

One particularly violent cough had Toshinori leaning with his full weight onto the counter, the sharp edge digging into his hips.

"Alright, easy there," Mic said, keeping his voice calm. He gently threw one arm across Toshinori's back, the other gripping the man's forearm. Toshinori pulled in a wet gasp of air as Mic led him to a nearby chair pushed against the wall. "Let's get you set down."

Toshinori blinked away the haze in front of his eyes, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Mic slowly helped him into the chair, making sure he didn't slip off the edge.

Toshinori wheezed, the pain in his chest fading. ". . . dammit."

Mic gave a short laugh. "I hear ya." He stood and walked over to the kettle, taking the heated water off the burner and turning it off. "Just chill there for a while, yeah?"

Toshinori nodded and slouched into the chair. ". . . sorry."

Mic waved a hand. "No problem." He pointed at the hot water. "How long do I keep the bag in here for?"

"Put the bag in a thermos." Toshinori was exhausted, doubtful of his decision to venture into the kitchen. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. "Pour the water over it and leave it be for a couple of minutes."

"Gotcha." Mic looked around the cupboard, gently moving aside glass cups. "So, why a thermos?"

"Easier to carry."

"You gonna head back upstairs?" Mic withdrew his hand, looking over the dull silver thermos he had found.

"Yeah."

Mic sighed. "You know, there are a few open rooms down here that you don't have to go so far to get to."

"I know." Toshinori opened his eyes and held his head up. "It's just easier in my room, that's all."

Mic shook his head even as he filled the thermos with steaming water.

For several minutes the kitchen was quiet. Mic found a mug for himself, set on making some hot chocolate. Toshinori just sat in the chair, focusing on his breathing and the familiar taste of iron in his mouth.

Eventually, though, he stood up and shuffled over to the thermos. It had been long enough for the tea to steep. He fished the teabag out with a fork, breathing in the scented steam as deeply as he could. Toshinori nodded a thanks to Mic, who was absolutely enamored with his hot cocoa. He slipped the top over the thermos and began the trek back to the elevator.

"Hold up -" Mic said, grabbing a package of crackers and hurrying over to Toshinori. "If you're not gonna eat anything down here, at least take these." He all but shoved the crackers into the pocket of Toshinori's hoodie, giving them a final pat to make sure they wouldn't fall out.

Toshinori rolled his eyes, but didn't remove the food from his pocket. "Thanks, Mic." He gave a small smile and started to shuffle back over to the elevator, looking forward to sleeping.

"Try to get some rest, yeah?"

"That's the plan," Toshinori said as he waved over his shoulder, his voice rough.

Mic sighed as he watched Toshinori shuffle back to the elevator.

* * *

Izuku was pacing in his room. It had been nearly three days since Todoroki and Uraraka had told the others what had happened to All Might. No one had seen their teacher since, except for the brief time Present Mic said he'd been downstairs to grab some tea.

Izuku came to a stop in front of his desk, looking absentmindedly at the poster hung there. "His left side . . ." He gave a tense groan and fell backwards onto his bed.

 _He was the only one who knew._

He could still remember the only time he had seen All Might's scar, back on that rooftop when they had first met. Now he knew that it was still giving him problems - well, beyond the way it had messed with One For All and his hero career, not to mention the habitual way All Might coughed up blood.

Izuku curled up, gripping his blanket and burying his head into his pillow.

"Maybe I should go see him," he muttered to himself.

" _. . . he didn't want help and acted like it wasn't anything to be worried about_." He could still hear the tremor in Uraraka's voice. His heart clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut.

A moment later Izuku huffed and kicked himself off his bed, walking towards his door.

He had made up his mind.

* * *

The knock at his door was quiet. With a wince Toshinori walked across his room, gently pulling open the door and looking down at his student. "Ah, young Midoriya! What is it?"

The boy was gripping the edge of his shirt and looking up at Toshinori, wincing when he heard the man's rasping voice. Izuku's gaze dropped to the floor. "All Might, can we talk?"

Toshinori gave a weary smile. "Of course, my boy." He opened his door a bit wider, inviting his student in to sit at his desk. Toshinori just sat himself down on the edge of his bed, pulling a blanket around his shoulders.

Izuku seemed subdued, watching the floor as he closed the door behind him. He seemed to move slowly, and Toshinori thought he seemed a bit tense. Still, Izuku sat down with a feeling of determination, scooting the chair as close as it could get to the bed.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Izuku looked up, a line of tension along his forehead. "It's about a few nights ago."

Toshinori gave a small jolt before settling back down in his blankets and reaching up to rub between his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but Izuku beat him to the punch.

"Are you feeling better?"

Toshinori froze, the words taking time to filter through his brain. "I, uh. Yes, I am."

"That's good," Izuku sniffed, his eyes starting to water. "I was really worried!" He rubbed at his nose. "When Todoroki and Uraraka told us what happened, I didn't know what to do, and if you would be alright, and -" The boy drew in a shaky breath and clenched his hands together.

Toshinori was surprised, to say the least. He had no idea he had worried his student that much. He knew Izuku cared about his well being - his reaction to their conversation after Kamino Ward was enough of an example of that. But he had told them that he would be fine (he would be _functional_ ) and that was usually all he ever needed to say.

"What . . . what happened, All Might?"

Toshinori sighed, blinking away the confusion. "My injury. Some days it hurts more than others."

Izuku looked at his teacher, his expression unreadable. Toshinori scooted back a bit on his bed, crossing his arms and slouching into the blanket. "Usually I can handle it, but it can get bad enough that I have to take a break."

Izuku looked at his hands, one thumb twitching against a scar. ". . . so it hurts all the time?"

"Hmm?"

"You said that it can h-hurt more than other times. So, does that mean it always -"

"It's chronic, yes."

Izuku gripped his hands together. "Oh."

Toshinori felt something squeeze in his chest and he reached across to Izuku, placing a bony hand on his shoulder. "Midoriya, my boy, there isn't anything that can be done to fix it. It's just the way it is, and I've learned to deal with it. It's normal for me."

"But that doesn't mean it's okay." Izuku's voice trembled, but there was a core of steel in his words.

"It's fine, I promise."

"No, it isn't!"

Toshinori felt his eyebrows raise.

"It's not -" Izuku cleared his throat. "You're not fine, even though you say you are. I know you don't lie, so maybe you really think that you're alright, and that you don't need help, or that others shouldn't worry about you, but that's just not how it works, All Might."

For a moment Toshinori felt frantic. "Midoriya, there's nothing to be done for-"

"That doesn't mean we can't help!" Izuku's voice was edged with emotion, even as quiet as it was. "You don't have to constantly push yourself to the side because you think you always have to be strong."

Toshinori froze.

Izuku sniffed and rubbed at his nose. "Tsuyu explained it best, maybe. You're used to not needing anyone. But you are used to everyone needing _you_ , and that's why you don't like to tell others when something's going on."

Toshinori looked down at his hands and flexed his fingers. The back of his eyes itched.

"You worry us, you know. All of us. Even Kaachan, though he won't admit it. We see that you're tired a lot, and that sometimes your arms and hands hurt, and you don't eat much, which makes sense, but you really need to eat more and I _know_ because I looked it up, because I was worried about you and -" Izuku took a deep breath, breaking his growing monologue.

Toshinori was quiet. He hadn't realized his students were _this_ concerned for him. He looked up from his hands, meeting the gaze of Izuku. The boy had a faint and determined smile on his face, even though the dim gleam of tears could be seen in his eyes.

"And you don't . . . you don't have to pretend that everything's 'alright' when it isn't." Izuku's voice got progressively gentler. "It's okay to do whatever you need to do to feel better. It's alright to not be alright."

Toshinori blinked. Then, not allowing himself a moment to think, he pulled the boy into a hug. One hand came up to cradle the back of the boy's head, bony fingers lightly threading through the boy's green hair. The other wrapped around Izuku, one hand coming to rest between his shoulder blades.

 _I've had to pretend for six years that I was fine. I think I even managed to fool myself, at least a little._

"I don't . . ." Toshinori pulled in a shuddering breath, feeling a hitch in his chest. "I don't think I've ever been told that, before. At least, not in a way that would make it through my thick head."

 _He's a smart boy, and maybe I should take his word for it._

"You don't have a thick head," Izuku mumbled reflexively. He wrapped both of his arms around Toshinori, being careful and gentle with his left side. He gripped Toshinori's shirt with strong hands, though, and buried his head into Toshinori's chest.

Toshinori chuckled. "Thank you for saying so." He felt Izuku sniff, his head bobbing.

"And . . . you're right, I think." It was still a bit much for Toshinori to take in, worming it's way past six long years of experience and action.

Izuku gave a little laugh. "That's a start!"

Toshinori couldn't hold back the grin, even though Izuku wouldn't see it.

Izuku sighed and shifted in Toshinori's arms, pressing his forehead to Toshinori's collar bone. ". . . the others are pretty worried, too."

". . . I see."

"It might be a good idea to, you know, talk to them, too."

Toshinori sighed. "I don't -"

"You don't have to tell them everything! At least talk to them about what happened a couple nights ago. Uraraka was nearly crying."

Toshinori gave a mirthless chuckle. "I don't mind telling others about my injuries, Izuku. I'm just having trouble figuring out why it seems to matter so much."

Izuku's head shot up. There was an earnest look in his green eyes. "We all care about you! _That's_ why it matters."

A thought began building in the back of Toshinori's head. It was small and weak, but grew as he looked at Izuku. _Perhaps_. . .

He sighed and ruffled Izuku's unruly hair. "Alright. I'll talk to them."

* * *

"We hardly ever see you eat. You always look tired. And what happened two nights ago . . . we didn't know what was going on. You said that doctors wouldn't be able to help. You were in a lot of pain, to say nothing of the blood." Todoroki was strangely subdued, with an unusual edge to his voice.

"Yeah, it was really scary to not know what was happening to you," Uraraka said, crossing her arms and pinching her skin.

Toshinori was surprised, to say the least.

His students were all gathered in the communal area on the first floor, though they had left one of the recliners open for him. They all seemed genuinely worried.

"I apologize for worrying you all," Toshinori said, looking around the room. "It truly wasn't my intention."

Kirishima leaned forward on his chair. "Can we talk about it? You know, just in case it happens again."

Uraraka looked up and smiled, though it was weak. "Yeah, could we? Just so we know how to help."

"I . . ." Despite his conversation with Izuku, he still held a large amount of doubt. _You shouldn't have to worry about me. I spent my entire life being a pillar for people to rely on. You shouldn't have to be there for me. I've been dealing with this for years. There's nothing to fix, nothing left to keep healing, and . . ._

His thoughts evaporated when he looked around at his students. Some had worry or concern in their eyes. Some of the more subdued ones, such as Todoroki and Shouji, had their arms crossed and were looking at him with unreadable expressions. Izuku gave him an encouraging look.

 _Maybe . . . maybe this'll be alright. They're actually concerned for me, even when I'm useless like this, retired and half decayed already. At the very least I don't think I can disappoint them, especially Izuku. The less time they spend worrying about me is more time they can spend concentrating on their studies, after all._

Toshinori rubbed the back of his neck. ". . . you all are pretty determined, then?"

"Of course!" Kaminari gave a bright smile. Satou nodded in agreement.

Toshinori gave a small sigh, one hand coming up to gently cradle the scar tissue at his side. He swallowed past the odd lump in his throat and gave a tired smile. "Alright. Just . . . let me figure out where to start."

The room got quiet as Toshinori thought.

 _. . . well, the beginning is always a good place._

"A number of years ago I was pretty severely injured. I ended up losing my stomach, which is why I don't eat often, and my respiratory system is a wreck. The various surgeries and their complications are why I look like this, actually."

Some of the students had widened their eyes as he started to explain, but they didn't say anything. Toshinori sighed, gently curving his hand around the remains of his warped rib cage. One finger slipped off a whorl of scar tissue, even through the thin material of his shirt. "The injury also handicapped my ability to use my quirk, and is a large part of the reason for my retirement."

The room was quiet as the students processed the information, some of their eyes lighting up as they connected the dots.

"What about the whole, you know, blood thing?" Ah, that was young Kirishima. He seemed a bit subdued.

"There's nothing to really be done for that. It's sort of a side effect. I'm used to it." Toshinori gave a smile. "That's actually gotten a bit better, now that I don't have to do hero work."

". . . better?" Jirou raised an eyebrow.

"It's sort of, ah, a daily thing." Toshinori rubbed the back of his neck, noticing all the glances the students were passing between each other.

"And what the fuck was that a few nights ago? That was more than blood." Bakugou's voice was quiet, and he was staring at Toshinori with sharp eyes.

Toshinori gave the student a knowing look.

"Yeah, what was that?" Yaoyoruzo asked, gently leaning on Asido sitting next to her. Her hands clenched in her lap.

Toshinori rested his elbows on the table in front of him. "The scar that was left behind just hurts more than usual, sometimes. What happened a couple of days ago was a bit strange, I will admit. It . . . escalated . . . a lot quicker than usual. It doesn't happen all that often, though, and it's not really something to be concerned about-"

"Bullshit." Bakugou's voice was vitriolic, for all that it was quiet and low. "You can't fucking cough up blood and collapse on the fucking floor and expect us to not be _concerned_."

"I've been dealing with this for years, young Bakugou. It's _normal_."

"All Might, with all due respect," Iida said, waving his hand by his head. "Coughing up blood isn't normal. While it might be common for you in particular, it is serious and shouldn't be waved away."

Toshinori blinked. Even while there was still a part of him saying _'No, they can't help and they shouldn't. They have better things to do, and you're not worth their time and you've been handling it just fine on your own_ -' there was a part of him that thought ' _Maybe_ . . .'

"I don't -" One hand came up to cover his mouth as he clenched his eyes shut. He sighed and his shoulders dropped.

Something touched his leg. He looked down, the green eyes of Tsuyu meeting his gaze. She put one gentle hand on his knee. "How long have you been living with this?" Her voice was quiet.

Toshinori blinked slowly, dropping his hand into his lap. "It's been about seven years, actually."

"And you've been dealing with it alone?" Kirishima's voice wavered.

Toshinori didn't answer.

It was quiet, for a while. Todoroki was looking at his feet, hands clenching and unclenching. Eventually he spoke up. "Is that why you told us that you'd be 'fine,' All Might? Because you're used to being in pain alone? Or because you didn't want to worry us?"

Toshinori looked up at his class, though his eyes quickly dropped back to the floor. ". . . probably both, at least a little."

Uraraka's voice was halting. "You know something like that wouldn't bother us, right?"

"Yeah," Ashido agreed. "We care about you, ya know."

Instantly the mood in the room lightened. Various students were looking at each other and nodding, some agreeing with Ashido verbally.

Shouji shoved his primary hands in his pockets. "You taking time off to deal with things isn't wrong or bothersome, All Might."

"Yeah!" Satou nearly jumped out of the couch. "You gotta take care of yourself, man!"

"We care, All Might." The familiar voice of Izuku seemed loud, and Toshinori realized that this was the first time the boy had spoken up. "Whatever you need to do to help yourself feel better, we'll support it." The boy had a bright grin on his face.

"I. . ." Toshinori's voice caught and he had to clear his throat. "Sometimes those, um, _bad days_ , when that injury flares up . . . they keep me from working or doing much of anything."

"That's alright, All Might." Tsuyu patted his knee.

"Are you sure?"

Ashido gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. "One hundred percent!"

Yaoyorozu spoke up. "It's important to take whatever time you need."

Toshinori gazed at his students, amazement on his face. There was a hot itch behind his eyes.

 _Get up, get going. You're the Symbol of Peace. You can't afford to let others close, you have to be strong, you can't show any weakness. You carry others - you can't allow yourself to place your problems on them._ That mantra from the past few years seemed weaker, now.

It was starting to be replaced by the voices of his students.

Toshinori took in a shuddering breath and rested his forehead on his hands. "You're all good kids, you know that?"

"Ah, All Might! Don't cry!"

His students crowded around him, some reaching out to gently pat his shoulders or back. Toshinori gave a small laugh when someone softly put their hands on his head. He looked up into the grinning faces of his students.

"Thank you," he said, and no one commented on the bubble of emotion in his voice.

Meanwhile, at the entryway to the kitchen, the other resident teachers of the dorms looked at each other. Mic was on the verge of tears, consciously keeping his voice down as he said something about 'their wonderful kids.'

Midnight looked over at Aizawa, who was leaning against the doorway. She cocked her head and gave a grin.

"Is that a smile I see?"

Aizawa snorted, but that didn't erase the rare grin from his face. "I'm just relieved that something finally made it through his head."

Midnight twitched a knowing eyebrow and said "Uh-huh."

* * *

After that a number of small things changed.

Occasionally the students would ask Toshinori if he had eaten enough that day, sometimes going as far as to make something for him. Izuku was instrumental in this, often looking up recipes that were recommended for gastrectomy patients and working with his fellow classmates in the kitchen. Recovery Girl had given a relieved laugh when Izuku came to her for tips.

When they saw his hands were hurting they would offer to carry his materials as they went from class to class. At least once a day one of the students would check to make sure he had remembered to take whatever medication he needed.

There were days when his scar hurt more than normal, of course, but it was a while before it was bad enough to completely put him out of commission. Those were long days, when he spent a lot of time in the teacher's lounge stretched out on the couch, only moving to make the trek to whatever classroom he was assigned to that day. His students always understood when he had to cut class short.

Toshinori was a bit bewildered, honestly. He was used to doing things on his own, even working through the more difficult days when he couldn't see straight due to the pain in his side. Before it had only been Naomasa, or occasionally Chiyo, that he would contact. Even then he had preferred to not bother them, often simply not telling others about the attacks.

But now he was surrounded by people, his _students_ , who actively told him that it was alright to take his time, and that his needs weren't something to be hidden. He noticed all the little things they did, whether it be making food with his dietary restrictions in mind, or helping to carry his books, or even when they silently passed over some painkillers when they saw he was having a rough day.

And dimly, in the back of his head, was the sprout of the thought that he deserved to take care of himself for his own sake.

He was worth it.


End file.
